


Malingering

by telperion_15



Category: Primeval
Genre: Episode Tag, First Kiss, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-05
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt visits an injured Becker. Episode tag for 4.05.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malingering

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for episodes 4.04 and 4.05.

Becker glared at the inside of his front door for a full ten seconds after someone had knocked on the outside of it. Honestly, he was lame in one leg – why would anyone think it was a good idea to come visiting without at least calling first and giving him some time to psyche himself up to the idea of crossing a whole room at approximately the speed of a hungover snail?  
  
Whoever his oh-so considerate caller was knocked again, and Becker’s glare intensified. “Coming!” he yelled, not bothering to disguise the irritation in his voice as he grabbed the crutch that was leaning against the arm of the sofa and prepared to lever himself upright.  
  
He’d just managed to manoeuvre himself into a standing position (and exercise that had required entirely too much effort, and no small amount of pained cursing) when, much to his surprise, the front door swung open to reveal Matt, who then walked into Becker’s flat without so much as a by-your-leave.  
  
“How did you do that?” Becker demanded. “That door was locked.”  
  
“Oh, I have my ways,” Matt replied blandly, and Becker knew he’d have about as much luck getting anything more out of him as he would asking a Tyrannosaurus Rex to please not eat him, thank you very much.  
  
Then Matt appeared to notice Becker’s grimace of pain, and the sweat that had broken out on his skin.  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
“No, I’m not bloody all right,” Becker said, through gritted teeth. “I was nearly poisoned to death the other day, and I’m missing a significant chunk of my leg. Would _you_ be all right?”  
  
“Perhaps you’d better sit down, then.”  
  
“Thank you _so_ much for your permission.” But Becker nonetheless lowered himself back down on to the sofa, not bothering to hide his sigh of relief when he finally settled on the cushions again.  
  
Matt sat down at the other end of the sofa. “I came to see how you were,” he said. “We missed you today. We could have used you.”  
  
“Ah yes, did you enjoy your little trip to the seaside?” Becker enjoyed the slight expression of surprise that crossed Matt’s face for a few seconds before explaining. “Jess called and filled me in.”  
  
“That could have waited until you got back.”  
  
“I like to be kept informed of what’s going on,” Becker said. “I may be out of action, but I’m still responsible for team security. Although it sounds to me like you lot completely forgot what security _is_ the moment I was out of the picture for a bit.”  
  
“So when do you think you’ll be back?” Matt asked. His lips quirked into something that could have been a smile. “Between you and me, I think Lester thinks you’re malingering.”  
  
“He’s more than welcome to come and inspect just how bad my leg is if he needs further evidence to support my claim for sick leave.”  
  
Matt grinned properly. “So I’ll tell him you’ll be back at work tomorrow then, shall I?”  
  
Becker’s glaring muscles really were getting a good work out today. Matt, however, seemed unperturbed by the fact that Becker was trying to kill him just with the power of his gaze.  
  
Then something occurred to Becker. “You know, you could have just phoned if you wanted an update on my condition,” he said, deciding that it would be useless to point out that that would also have caused _him_ far less bother.  
  
“But that would have caused a problem with the _seeing_ part of seeing how you were,” Matt replied reasonably.  
  
“Well, in that case, I’m flattered that you consider your team members so deserving of such special attention.”  
  
“All part of the service,” Matt said, shrugging.  
  
Becker narrowed his eyes. Matt wasn’t the easiest person to figure out at the best of times, but you didn’t get where Becker had got without learning to read people.  
  
And something was off here. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  
  
“Anyway,” Matt was saying, “what about a cup of tea or something? Don’t get up, I’m sure I can manage myself.”  
  
Becker’s hand shot out and grabbed Matt’s wrist before the other man could move. He stared hard at Matt for a few seconds, and then asked, “Matt Anderson, are you actually _concerned_ about me?”  
  
To his credit, Matt returned the stare without flinching, blue eyes steady and unwavering. Then after a moment of silence, he leaned over, caught Becker’s chin in his fingers, and kissed him.  
  
Becker didn’t startle, or struggle, or pull away. He let Matt kiss him for several seconds – enough time for the other man to get the message that he wouldn’t be controlling everything – before he suddenly started kissing back.  
  
The kiss went on until Matt settled his hand on Becker’s thigh, too close to his injury for comfort, and Becker hissed in sudden pain.  
  
Matt broke away immediately. “Sorry.” His expression didn’t look particularly contrite, but Becker could see the apology reflected in his eyes.  
  
What he didn’t know, though, was whether Matt was apologising for causing him pain, or for the kiss.  
  
“Don’t worry about it.” Deliberately, Becker removed Matt’s hand from his thigh and then drew it across his body, placing it on the arm of the sofa instead. The change in position meant that Matt had no choice but to lean even closer to Becker, and Becker took the opportunity to kiss him again, making sure that Matt knew he didn’t have to be sorry for _that_.  
  
Becker wasn’t certain how they’d gone from antagonistic respect to _this_ (although he supposed nearly dying together in a kitchen store cupboard might have had something to do with it), but he decided that now wasn’t the time to question it.  
  
“It might take me a while,” he murmured against Matt’s lips.  
  
“What might?” Matt asked, looking confused.  
  
“Getting to the bedroom.”  
  
Becker again took a moment to savour the surprise on the other man’s face. It was nice to know that it was possible to ruffle Matt Anderson’s cool every once in a while.  
  
But Matt’s bemusement didn’t last very long, and he quickly stood up, offering Becker a helping hand. “I suppose I’ll be doing all the work as well, will I?”  
  
“Well, I _am_ an injured man,” Becker pointed out. “If I was up to any strenuous effort, I’d be back at work, after all.”  
  
“You know, I’m beginning to think Lester is right,” Matt said thoughtfully, as he helped Becker limp in the direction of the bedroom.  
  
“In what way?”  
  
“You’re definitely malingering.”


End file.
